


Blossoms in spring

by LayikaR



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayikaR/pseuds/LayikaR
Summary: Playing the god damn accordion should NOT be that fucking hot





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan was cold. It was kinda windy and he had forgotten his jacket, but he wasn't going to close the car window and make it stop blasting wind in his face and tearing up his eyes. The surrounding area was a smudge of green and when he looked down he saw a clear as an angel tear emerald river. It was stunning, but he was feeling angsty and 17 so he kept his eyes stubbornly on the road. In a weird way, the road was pretty too. It had cracks and the paint in the middle wad all faded but it was still slightly poetic, and besides being cold Ryan was also a bit tired so he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

When he woke up he was in front of a house. It was a two-story building with a complicated design on the fence of the four big balconies, the biggest one facing the valley below. It was pained a dark brown color and complimented the snow-white façade of the top two floors, while still somehow showing off the wood on the ground floor. The windows were colorfully painted by chrysanthemums embroiled on the delicate material of the white curtains. On the windowsill in the same shade as the façade of the walls were Lillies in pots matching the balcony fences. A guy his age, maybe a bit older was walking towards him and Mary; his aunt, as they got out of the car and stretched and cracked their sore joints. He was presumably Jon his cousin. He wouldn't know he hadn't seen most of his family since ever. Maybe when he was a baby, but probably not, his family wasn't ever close. It's just not what they did.  
"Jon sweetie have you got the room all set up?" Oh God aunt Mary was one of /those/ moms. "Yeah it's all set don't worry." Probably Jon answered with not even a trace of embarrassment coating his voice. It was all smooth and relaxed and it would be a worn cotton shirt if it was a physical thing. Fuck, Ryan felt like a creep, who the hell thinks about peoples' voices being a physical thing. Probably Jon was also very manly, like in a real man way, slightly too short, but with broad shoulders and strong arms, they contradicted his awfully nice brown eyes and the small gray kitten that was now rubbing its head against his shin. Ryan was jealous. He was way too scrawny and dangly with spidery fingers and branch-like legs. And while Probably Jon had short neat hair, Ryan had warm brown-toned curls around his ears that kept place for a small tree blossom, fucking shit. He combed it out from behind his ear with his fingers and watched it slowly drift towards the ground, all delicate and beautiful. He wanted to step on it and crush its little beautiful-ness, but kept himself in check.  
"Hi, I'm Jon, and that's Dylan." Said now confirmed Jon and gestured towards the gray cat. Dylan was a cute name really. But the cat was cuter.  
He might have regained his belief in the world when Dylan slowly stepped towards him and stared stretching on his leg. He tentatively looked at Jon and when he smiled, gently pet the cat behind his ears, but quickly enough straightened back up when Mary started talking "you'll have your own room, but there's only one bathroom on the second floor, so you will share with Jon. He will help you carry your bags" a pointed look at Jon followed "and help you unpack. I'm wayy too lazy to cook today so we'll eat out." Jon huffed out a little laughter at that. "I just drove for 7 hours, I think I deserve a break."


	2. Chapter 2

Jon, as it turns out, is quite funny. Ryan feared, he would be one of those jocky, dumb types.

He helped Ryan carry up his bags. There were not very many, but he appreciated the gesture, not many people were ready to help. Maybe they were, just not Ryan. The inside was decorated as the outside would suggest. Warm, welcoming, and it had an air of family, his old house didn't, as it was painted frosty white, making it cold and uninviting. He cautiously walked behind Jon up the side staircase, yet again wooden. They came to a hallway with 3 more doors, but they moved up another set of stairs. By the time that they climbed up those, Ryan was feeling short of breath. To his dismay, they started to go up another set of stairs. By the time they had finally gotten at the top Ryan was hunched over and looking at the floor, using his arms to support his weight on his knees. when he stopped panting and looked up he saw an open space that stretched to accommodate two sofas, a tv, an aquarium, a terrarium, and a massive tv. He was slightly distracted by gazing lovingly at the hang-out place. So distracted in fact, he almost didn't hear Jon tell him where his room is. Thankfully though he acquired during his education is how to appear to be listening and getting the gist of the spoken word anyway. He looked at the door Jon was pointing at and nodded. "and that's my room," he pointed to the second door to the left. "in between is the bathroom," he continued, Ryan was listening intently, because he didn't want to get lost, but mostly because he tried to make a good impression, which was usually achieved by you know, listening to people. He was good at that, listening. So good he often forgot to speak up. 

Jon headed for Ryans's door and revealed an average-sized room. The walls were a pale yellow. A queen-sized bed was stuffed in the corner, behind which was a painted wooden chest, next to a window, with chrysanthemums, matching those on the ground floor. Opposite the bed was a desk, otherwise plain, except for the banker's desk green lamp in the far left end and a blue office chair. Only when he turned he saw a closet painted in the same style as the chest at the bed. 

Jon and himself just dumped the bags at the foot of the bed and Ryan threw his body on the bed, while Jon set on the chair at the desk. "You should mentally prepare for my mom at dinner," Jon spoke after a moment of silence. "Why?" Ryan asked, the beginning of worry starting to show through his voice. "She really likes you so she'll probably want to know everything, like which doctor delivered you and shit." Ryan cringed but remained quiet. He hated people asking questions, even simple ones, with one-word answers. "Anyway I'll go change, you probably should too," with that he left. Ryan looked through his bag and found a floral top and dark brown pants, not feeling like wearing a vest. Just as he was about to start to look for his books Mary called for Jon and him to come down.  
-  
As per Jon's prediction, Mary wanted to know every little detail about him. he tried to answer every single one with full sentences, rarely failing. He felt rather proud of himself. Mary was nice enough, Jon carrying on the conversation when it came to a halt. his uncle mostly remained silent the entire evening watching a hockey match on the tv at the end of the room. 

Right in the middle of a heated discussion of a book, between Mary and Ryan, Jon hadn't read it but decided to input his opinion nevertheless, a family walked in with a boy his age and still happily in love parents. he boy had light brown hair, flowing freely to his chin and piercing blue eyes, that managed to look warm, but could undeniably pull out an icy-cold bitch glares. Jon sat straighter in his chair and started talking far more animatedly than earlier, that didn't go past Ryan unnoticed, but a blind man could see Jon looking far happier than before. When they got to their table they stopped and the woman turned towards Mary with a smile used for friends only, the fathers exchanged a grunt of acknowledgment and continued staring at the tv, moving their eyes in synchronization as the puck danced over the ice at inhuman speed. Jon's head turned twars the boy and he started talking with even more glee than Ryan thought was possible "Spencer, you grew out your hair!" Spencer's hand immediately flew up towards the tips, he slowly brushed them back and smiled shyly "yeah, you like 'em?" Ryan decided to look away and lose himself in thought. He didn't hear the rest of the conversation, but he could imagine the track. he got formally introduced to Spencer and decide he liked him a fair bit, he was witty and nice.  
All too soon in Jon's mind, they started to leave.  
When they got home and headed to their rooms, Ryan caught Jon by the wrist. "Spencer looks nice," he started "where do you know him from?" Jon truly tried to keep down the smile, but it bubbled to the surface nonetheless "school, we've known each other for forever, he's great." Ryan just smiled and headed for his room.

it was gonna be pretty okay here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this sucks balls.


	3. Chapter 3

To say Ryan was excited for the day would be a massive lie. 

It's been two days so far and while yes the Walkers were nothing but nice to him, he just felt odd; it wasn't his home and he felt like one does while visiting unknown family and forced to interact with them. The only thing is he wouldn't be leaving in a week tops. As far as he knew this was his place 'till he got a job and moved out, or maybe, but preferably not went to college. It's just, well it wasn't his house. It didn't smell like his house, granted his house always smelled like cheap booze, but it was home. 

He's been using the word house in his head too much. In his head, because he didn't speak. Ofcourse he said yes or no, politely answer all questions that came his way, but always with a weird way of not answering while still saying something about the matter. 

Jon was nice. He turned out to play bass. That's cool. Maybe. 

Describing people isn't Ryan's thing.

Well see it is, just as long as he doesn't quite know the people, or they're fictional. What he's good at though is describing pretty much anything else. The weather, flowers, clothes, animals, events you fucking name it. 

What he didn't know how to describe though was the fact he will be going to a fete. Fetes are gross. They're all outdoorsy and the benches are always made out of wood and green metal. And you could bearly go from the table if you were in the middle. They were always packed, so even unnaturally natural skineyness wasn't of much aid, as you could painfully stab someone with an elbow or knock over the entire table by accident. People always got drunk and were to happy. The music was distasteful to say the least. Accordians are dumb and a waste of time. Why people liked them was beyond him. Later in the night everybody would go dance bad old, but not really traditional dances, but not before the raffle. It was as useless as the things you got. It was either vine of gloves. If you're feeling a little crazy maybe an old book your mother-in-law gave you for Christmas. 

So when they were having dinner- "as a family, yes Ryan you too" and Mary was all excited, which showed by her flying over a list of subjects in matters of minutes and randomly said that she need new shoes and maybe Janis from a few houses over could help her find some when she wont be planning the fete, Ryan froze. He knew that tone. Fuck. Fuck. He was fucked. 

Fuck.

And in a split second she stopped rambling and turned to Ryan " are you excited for the fete. You can meet so many people there, oh my God I'm so thrilled, what will you wear, what will I wear?"  
John the good husband that he was gently put a hand on her forearm. She stopped talking at once. After regaining a bit of excitement, it slipped through Joe's rough yet gentle fingers on her forearm she began to talk about a book much more camly, while still keeping a sparke of joy in her eyes. 

.......

Yeah no, he was fucked.

He should stop saying fuck so much.

Anyways it was 3:25 am and nothing has improved on his wiew on the event. 

Fu- darn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should stop writing on my phone and use a computer. 
> 
> Are people actually reading this, if so why?? It's trash and a dumb idea. Especially because school was, is and will be the death of me.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan was bored. Sooooo bored. He had to copy articles to make a paper for computer science and he wanted to die. The computers were so slow. So slow. 

Well even if he didn't he would probably be okay. The teacher, an elderly woman who always had her eyes mostly closed, looked stoned and was approximately as tall a stump absolutely adored him. She made him uncomfortable as well. Always so happy to chat with him and asked questions. 

School had started and he mostly stuck to Jon. Well he walked with him, pretty much never said anything unless directly spoken too and stayed in the shadows when jon talked to his friends. What he did find weird was the fact that Jon didn't talk to Spencer. Like at all. He had thought they were friends when he first met him, but was rather confused at the current turn of events. If Jon did see Spencer, say in the hallway he wouldn't exactly ignore him, per se more so mildly, yeah no that was ignoring someone, he would know. But there is no time for angst.

So Ryan just silently watched. He looked at Spencer and Jon and Spencer again and so on. Spencer was not the most popular in the school by any means, but he at least didn't seem lonely. He ate lunch with a weird Hispanic guy, too tall for his own good, who was constantly touching an almost as tall, well /pretty/ guy. And he was pretty. Yes his arms and legs were a bit too long, slightly disproportionate even, yet the way he moved even if only to hold his fork was too graceful for even the most refined of girls.  
There were intervals when Spencer would sit alone the peculiar pair not in sight and do schoolwork. 

One day when Jon and his friends were even more below average than usual in the originality of their conversation, and Spencer was sitting quietly not doing his work with his headphones in ignoring the world, Ryan decided to go talk to him. He was rather proud of himself really, he could bearly talk to Jon and he lived with the dude, furthermore he was his family and here he was approaching a mostly total stranger to have a conversation he will initiate. To say the least he was quite impressed. He stepped away from the table he normally sat at, turned to check if anyone noticed, they didn't, and walk over to Spencer. He quietly sat down Spencer not yet noticing him.  
He could hear the song he was listening to and it made him feel slightly down. How to completely disappear is not the ideal happy song, so he was afraid he would be disturbing Spencer, but he had come this far, so he might as well stick to the plan. He gently tapped Spencere forearm, only to make him jump out of his skin. "Sorry, oh my god sorry. I really didn't mean to scare you. You just looked kinda lonely and I wanted to talk to you maybe. Or well...fuck," he should stop now. Idiot. 

Spencer was nice though only smiled a little and waved his hand in a sign of okay-ness "s'fine I should have been paying attention, you're Ryan right?"  
Wow his voice was calming. Not as monotone as Ryan's and not to high, the perfect inbetween.

"Yeah and you're Spencer," it wasn't a question. He was panicking now, he didn't think this through, what the hell is he gonna say now?

"Uhmmm this place is like weird" 

"Excuse me?" Spencer blinked.

Well it's just everyone here is so nice, and smiley and the gym teacher is just like a weird robot trying to not show she'll kill you. And the people oh my god the people they're even weirder. Jesus, what the fuckkk?" Ryan ranted. 

"Yeah, they're mostly dicks," so where are you from. Your accent isn't from here?" Spencer replied with s question in his voice.

The conversation just flew and they were taling the whole break they had a bunch of classes together and just kept talking through them. Thankfully the teachers were just as or even more tired than the students so they were safe. 

Rayn felt pretty good. He had a friend, or well he hoped they were friends. Spencer was a swell guy, he hoped things would only or well mostly, he was a realist godfuckingdamnit improve.


	5. Chapter 5

As he avoided going to the fete during the entire summer, he was all out of excuses when Mary brought it up yet again, he was more or less cought with no room for escape by her thrilled gaze. "Yeah, I'd love to go," he mumbled in defeat.

'That bitch' was running around his mind, but he at lightning speed scolded himself. No Mary is in no way a bitch, she's a loving lady with albeit weird taste in curtains that went from Chrysanthemums to Gerberas as of last week. 

He debated about telling Spencer about his slight problem, but they were still relatively new to the friendship of two weeks. After that he decided to just stay in his room until he had to leave.

...

I sucked, the fete. It was loud and full of kids and people playing the accordion, c'mon the accordion. Who in their right mind could possibly think it was a good idea. But whatever Ryan felt like he was being whiney, even if he didn't say anything aloud.  
As most of the time, he just followed Jon around until he saw Spencer. Should he go over? Say hi? Would Spencer think he's dumb and annoying and clingy? Fuck. He was of the opinion that he was aloud to think it at least this once.

None of that needed to be answered though, because Spencer himself walked over and said hi. He did! Another person tried to talk to him! It was a rather nice feeling. What wasn't though was the look Spencer gave Jon, all longing and admiring, but shy almost scared and it was even sadder that Jon didn't see him. Well, it must have been the point, but he was still talking to a girl all smooth words and smoother movements. Yeah okay, not an option. 

They chatted for a bit; Spencer had a good taste in music, didn't completely hate the idea of subtitled indie films Ryan liked and soon Ryan forgot about his fear of being an outsider. The shitty music in the centre of the dancefloor and the nearby stage stopped and a peppy female voice started to announce throught the crappy speakers. "Oh dude, we should totally go there, Urie's performing," and before Ryan could mouth out a "who the fuck- no hell, is Urie?' he was being dragged by Spencer over to the makeshift stage. 

A guy probably about their age stepped on the stage wearing a winning smile, crafted by incredibly large pillow-y lips and bright eyes. They only gave an illusion of brightness though, they were in actuality a deep dark brow, looking almost black on the poorly lit stage. His hair was a dark brown that matched his eyes. He carried himself in a relaxed yet still enough confident way to be admired. Most girls started swooning and cooing at them, but he largely ignored them. He did a slight bow; greeting the audience and sat on an already prepared chair. In about a second he had an accordion in his lap, Ryan had missed that being a part of his luggage, being distracted by ignoring everything around him and staring at his shoes, but in a deep poetic way. 

His face changed drastically, no not physically, just the look in his eyes went from a charming, cheeky boy, to a serious, focused young man. He played the first 4 notes to Golica and everyone went wild. People partnered up with strangers just to get the opportunity to dance polka to the entrancing sound, filling the space around them.

Ryan, he, he felt a little peculiar, if you will. He just stood there not dancing, staring at the stage. He wasn't a particular fan of a comedians really, but he just, like c'mon, how could he not? 

He was feeling at least 95% confused. He doesn't like accordians, and since the last incident he doesn't like accordian players either. So what if he was 8 when it happened, it's still valid as trauma. He got a flashback to the time he was 8, with his dad at the fete. God he hated them, he was just a quiet person, not big on going out and since he learned to read, he didn't see the point in anything else. So he wasn't paying attention, but it couldn't be his fault that the guy who played accordian though it was a good idea to just put it on the side of the stage where it could fall on a child- which it did. 

Yeah Ryan got 4 stitches on the small patch of skin connecting his neck and shoulder and needless to say he was the coolest guy in class that day. His glory was rather short lived as he didn't care for the slaps on the back emitted by the boys or the nurturing soft hands of the girls. Maybe it was for the best.

Anyway when he glanced on the stage again he couldn't look away. It creeped him out. So instead of trying to look away he just turned his entire body 180° and marched to the bathrooms. After a few, not all that effective splashes of lukewarm water to the face a and a quiet, but persistent chant of 'you're okay, you're not going crazy' he felt fir to return to the scene of his discomfort. 

Spencer had a big smile on his face, which was slightly redder than usually when he found him. 

"Where'd you go man?" He asked rather loudly to be heard over the music. "Just to the bathroom," he wasn't technically laying.

Brendon wasn't on after Ryan left, for which he was gratefull and still a tad bit sad, but its not like he would ever openly say so. 

When they got to the car, parked in a sloppy way on the side of the road, he turned to look at the big dipper, but caught a glance at Jon. He was weirdly smiley, but the girl he was with looked rather, what would be a nice way of putting it, well no fuck it, pissy with a nice touch of the bitchface, decorating her delicate features, next to the additional charm of a coocked hip with the elbow resting on top, shouting at her friend, but wait there was more, for the special day of, well today, she added the additional bitch slap to Jon's cheek for free! What an offer. So in conclusion he had no idea why Jon was all smiley and happy. Maybe he was stoned. 

Maybe Ryan should get stoned, then oddly attractive accordian players wouldn't get in the way of his beauty sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda have a feeling this one is longer than the other ones. Idk I'm kinda pround of that. Especially cause this whole thing was a joke.
> 
> I've also abandoned the hope of using a computer.


	6. Chapter 6

the days seemed tom move slower with very excruciating second that passed. It wasn't to Ryan's immense pleasure to be in the middle of this time slowing phenomena, but he could deal.

Spencer was weirdly quiet, to his surprise. He didn't want to pry, but he felt as if he might have been initiated to do so.

Jon acted mostly the same, he did leave the house, a lot more often though. Maybe, or hopefully, in Ryan's opinion, he had realized Ryan isn't as frightened and fragile as he first appeared. 

As for Ryan himself, he just stayed in his room most of the time. Mary found a typewriter in the basement, and thus earned Ryan's eternal gratitude. He found the taps and dings to be very relaxing and therapeutic, Jon disagreed. He liked Ryan, but one of these days he going to throw a shoe in his face. Ryan didn't even care.

......

Jon liked Cassie, she was charming, interesting, and well she was really fucking hot. or so he was told. He thought she was okay, not ugly by any extent, but she was blond and her eyes were too greenish-blue and murky. So he hung out with her went on walks, had long, not particularly deep or meaningful conversations, at least not oh his end. He kissed her in the middle of the forest, with birds chirping in the background and waited to fall in love. He was yet to do so, but not for the lack of trying. Perhaps if he kept trying he could like her one day. He had given up on the loving her bit.

......

Spencer just so happened to like walks in the woods, considerately a lot more than your average 16-year-old. He liked the peace and getting away from his sisters, but mostly just because it was so pretty there. all green and perfectly fucked up. A dead tree? totally perfectly mossy, with little mushrooms, a stump all fairy-home like and all of the lights there. Don't get him started on the light. its always so... so pulchritudinous, with different shadows and highlights. What he didn't like however was finding Jon of all people out on a walk with Cassie being all couple-y and cassie staring at Jon as of she's willing to give him her ovaries. And Jon looking back at her like, well he looked like he truly wanted something, but it was a look you had when you would ask your parents at the age of 7 for a pet. You knew you were going to get rejected but asked none less. he was fiddling with his camera, adjusting the film with the lather case still around his neck. he turned to take a photo while, cassie was looking at two birds, just to see spencer being a creep and intruding on their seemingly romantic date.  
They locked eyes and it was weird. spencer wanted to flee, Jon just stood there and stared, all doe-eyed and inappropriately gay while on a date with very much a female. It was as if she wasn't there. The wind started to embrace their bodies and play with Jon's curls, and make Spencers longer hair dance in front of his eyes. the light shifted when spencer, catching his eyes, making them illuminated. It was as if they were glowing when looking at Jon. He stood there frozen with a similar literal glimmer in his eyes. They were standing in the middle of a daffodil patch just existing.

.....

Ryan might not have enjoyed Jon being outside quite as much, as he first speculated. As Jon was out more, it fell on him to do all of the shopping, while Mary was busy cooking.  
So here he was now, in the only store in town, working up the courage to ask for the specific kind. He felt a pair of eyes boring into his back. He briskly swirled around, being presented with the accordion playing dude. he flinched on accident, cause accordions are a scary force not to be reckoned with, as were their masters- accordion players.  
"The bread lady is scary," he found himself saying. "Nah man, Marica is totally a sweetheart," he replied easily. "I'm Brendon." "Ryan," they briefly shook hands, Ryan maybe enjoying a wee bit too much. He still didn't dare talk to Marica, even with Brendon's declaration, so he motioned Brendon to order first. He might have listened to his voice a bit too carefully when ordering, but just might. When Brendon left he did a little wave and smiled at him. That was too much for Ryan's mush of a brain to handle so he wobbled to the tea section and took some mint tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of I'm sorry for not knowing what a posting schedule is, so i hope this being a tad longer makes up for it. I mean it's not really like anybody actually reads this but what can you do. i have come to the realasation that I start too many of my sentences with he. I also tend ro write this in the fucking evening 3/4 asleep. I mean they wouldn't be any better if I woke them awake. have a nice day.


	7. Chapter 7

Ryan's room held the secret of interstellar comfort. Or ar least he thought so. Well, it might as well be, as he spent about every day of his existence in it. maybe that's why he was so surprised that he liked going on walks with Spencer quite as much. It wasn't hiking, because they avoided any trail under an angle greater than 5 degrees thank you very much. He was already outside, isn't that enough. Why bring sports into it? Anyways he liked it, it was calming to be amongst the green and it was all so refreshing. So refreshing in fact, that his poetry took shape in green trees and chirping sparrows and woodpeckers. Spencer, however, had a deep expression on his rounded features, indicating he almost had an ethereal time on their walks. They wondered for hours, eventually finding a small clearing, declaring it their own and having nice /lunches/, they weren't pickings, but very manly food consumption rituals. Or so they told themselves. 

Once Ryan attempted to invite Jon along, but Spencer gave him a now-familiar bitchface and dismissed the idea with a swift bat of his efficacious eyelashes. Perhaps Spencer was experiencing his monthly cycle or whatever Mary called it around the boys. 

"Spencer for fuck's sake!" Spencer blinked as if just waking up and stared at Ryan "fuck you man, that was a good one," he said in a cold whisper not meant to be heard. "It was what? Whatever, nevermind that, what I said was why don't you like Jon?" At that Spencer's shoulders shot up and his arms crossed over his chest defensively "I don't dislike him, where'd you get that? Really I'm always talking to him or whatever so just stop imagining shit and drop it!"  
"Jeez, chill dude, I was just wondering," Ryan said, the defensive tone transferring on him. "Well don't," Spencer remarked. "Really? Fucking basic," was all that Ryan said, before looking back at the wood-covered space. He eventually got tired of it and plopped his back on the ground, Spencer, no longer pissy, following suit. 

"I think I'll die alone," Spencer said as if suggesting they go out for food later. Spencer  
"What the shit Spencer? How'd you even come up with that?" Ryan said, maybe a bit too fiercely.  
"Well, like, I don't know, it feels like that a lot. Just you know, everyone's like wanted by another person or something and I'm just here, alone and no one wants me," he said feeling less certain than before Ryan said anything.  
"Spencer, you're 16, if you were to be 58, not married and bitter, wearing dirty undershirts and drinking your shitty pay, from your shitty job, then I might agree," Ryan had a tone indicating compoundness, but Spencer dismissed it as just a weird quirk of Ryan's.  
"And it's not like you started being a fucking alcoholic after you had a kid and then your wife left you because you were being a dick in the worse possible meaning of the word by wanting to hit your one and only son or anything. WHICH IS FINE, I'M FINE, IT'S NOT LIKE I CARE!" maybe Spencer desist to have ignored it. Ryan bludgeoned any sort of calm and collected he had been working hitherto.  
"Yeah, I wouldn't like me either. Or anyone like that I think. Well I've never met anyone like that outside of dramas that my sisters like to watch and pretend are real," almost hesitantly he added "have you?"  
There was a pause in Ryan's angry rant and his face just sort of broke down. Spencer was precariously obtaining the relaxed facade, but getting more panicky the longer Ryan's sorrowful harangue had gone on.

It was all quiet until a noise now rudely apparent came from their left and both of their heads snapped towards the direction of the disturbance.  
Ryan's cheeks went pale, contrasting his previously anger flushed features. His eyes were previously full of upset passion towards his aforementioned rant. 

A high pitched giggle resonates through the almost physically thick air suffocating both Ryan as well as Spencer. Cassie's dress-clad figure and behind her a brown haired wide-eyed boy. He was handsome as well as pretty loo- no not quite. The only pretty thing about him was the eyes. Big and brown and perfect for accompanying a pout. His over-all features were very manly though and Ryan couldn't imagine him ever pouting though. He looked like the kind of guy who would just take what he wanted and most certainly wouldn't resort to begging. To be frank, Ryan wouldn't either, but that's mostly because he's already too scared to be excused to go to the bathroom during dinner. 

Cassie happily skipped through an actual fucking field of daisies a bemused male figure still trailing behind her. 

Spencer got a funny look on his face "that's Brendon's brother Matt," Spencer whispered enjoying the gossip, maybe a tad too much.  
Ryan couldn't link the face to the name for a solid 10 seconds before he dismissively responded with "the accordion guy?"  
Spencer looked horrified by the idea of Brendon being the 'accordion guy', but Ryan didn't know the guy, so he didn't really care, if 'the accordion guy' was some teenage heart-throb in this place.  
Nevertheless, Spencer didn't miss a beat "he's nice" Spencer declared "or so I've been told," he added quietly.  
"Wait you don't know him?" Ryan deadpanned, feeling himself get bored by the situation.  
"Well no, but um..." Spencer trailed off, getting a far-away look on his face. 

"So how could you possibly know?" Ryan would seriously like to drop the topic at hand, but Spencer was getting redder by the second and Ryan could afford to lose a few more minutes, even though this was getting preposterous.

Ryan blinked, looking elsewhere when another thing snatched his attention. Why was Cassie with 'Matt', looking all snuggly if she's dating Jon?  
"Hey, Jon is still dating Cassie, right?" Ryan inquired.  
"Wait, holy shit, yes!" Spencer looked happy promptly at the declaration. 

Now Ryan wasn't in possession of the most honing of minds in real-life events. Give him a book and he's got every single character and their motives down to a t, but real-life people were formidable, but even he noticed Spener's face of sheer glee at the revelation of Cassie cheating prima facie on Jon. 

"Hold on a fucking second" Ryan divulged "do you have a weird thingy for Jon?" 

Ryan gruntled didn't yet notice Spencer looking perturbed face.  
After a slight pause, Spencer demurely nodded "That won't be a problem will it?"  
"Again with the cliches Spencer, it's unbecoming," spurned Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I most definitely am not a night owl I still write all of these at fucking night. Anyways, I feel kinda bad for not posting and then after posting it isn't even the story I'm currently working on. (As with all of the other ones, I didn't spell-check any of these so I'll probably fix it later). If literally anyone is reading this attempt at fanfiction please tell me, or suggest things. It is greatly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Shit’s been busy, Spencer’s been bitchy and Jon’s been mopey, therefore the trip was completely deserved. He woke up early, not even intentionally, in the morning with birds chirping and sharp wisps of cool morning air teasing under his blue duvet. He left a note without giving it much thought, took some money he had and left with the earliest bus. 

He had no real desire to go to a certain place and his monthly bus ticked only made the trip easier.  
His hair was getting long and it stuck to his throat when a soft drizzle started falling, but he continued walking undisturbed for another ten minutes when he finally got annoyed at the wet splash slowly settling in clothes and grandpa shoes.  
Turning the corner he ducked under a threshold of some shop or another. When it looked like the weather isn’t going to settle down any time soon, he begrudgingly looked into the warmly, yet sparingly lit record store. After a quiet argument taking place solely in his head on the topic of should he stay outside inside his isolation and look like a creep or go inside and not look like a creep, but be near people. He decided on the latter since there was only one old guy in the shop. 

Immediately after entering, his body was pleasantly bathed in warmth for a second before looking around the room. He was pleasantly surprised by the variety of the record section and quickly stepped towards his favourites.

“’S a good one,” the voice came out of nowhere and Ryan almost dropped the record he was holding. He had to look down which artist he was even cradling to his chest and it turned out to be Chet Baker.  
“Oh, uh, you like jazz?” well no shit, he just said he did. Whowas he even talking to? Brown eyes, hair, kinda big nose—right the accordion dude. Ryan worked hard on suppressing the pretty people out of his life, except Spencer; Spencer could stay. 

“Yes! Jazz is completely underrated. I like a lot of kinds but there’s so many that a lot suck. Free and arabesque jazz though, utterly hideous. My teacher said that whoever likes free jazz is ether deaf or lying. Also swing, completely awesome, so’s cool jazz and most people think that cool jazz’s the same as smooths jazz, but it’s really not, cause smooth jazz is really simple and cool jazz is fancy and way more structurally complex ya know?” Ryan most definitely didn’t. He nodded along nonetheless.

“What kind do you like?” Brendon asked, seeming to realise he started ranting, quieted down.  
“Cool” Ryan said tonelessly. Brendon’s eyes prompted him to speak more, but Ryan had nothing else to say about jazz, especially after not knowing most things Brendon has just ranted about.  
“Uh I like other stuff,” what the hell did that even mean? ‘I like other stuff’ way to sound like an idiot. Brendon however didn’t think so and smiled at him-probably out of politeness- and if he wanted more of an explanation he wasn’t going to get any.  
Seemingly realising Ryan was completely useless in social interactions spoke “Which falls to? Wait no let me guess! Hmm you look like a Smiths type of guy. Am I right? Please tell me I’m right.” Brendon excitedly spoke.  
“Smiths are good”  
“And the Beatles.”  
Under his breath he whispered, almost like telling a secret “the shoes gave you away.”  
Ryan looked at his shoes in worry. Were they really that bad? No, no they weren’t, they were totally amazing and stylish. ‘In the 60s maybe’ Spencer’s voice mocked in his head.  
Brendon, who was as it seems well versed in social queues, noticed Ryan’s worried glance at his shoes hurried to reassure him “They look cool, if you ask me. Not that you did, but I still like them. They suit you.” Great now the guy had to lie in order to not make him feel bad.  
“Yeah, thanks.”

“What else?” he was persistent then.  
“Tom Waits,” that was about all he was going to say. One of Ryan’s best kept secrets was his completely devoted and undying love for the man. 

Maybe it wasn’t that well-hidden. 

“I like him. I think. I don’t really know he just has a weird voice. I mean it’s interesting, but maybe not my cup of tea, so I like his older music best. I don’t know much of it,” he said as if admitting to an awful crime. Usually Ryan would be pulling a sour face, but Brendon has proven to know a lot about jazz, so he deserved a free pass. “I think you’d like Martha,” Ryan said hesitantly, closely inspecting Brendon’s face for any reaction.  
“I don’t know that one I think. We should listen to it. Which album is it from?”  
“Closing time,” Ryan said.  
“Great! We have that one in the back. It’s the one with Tom leaning on a piano all dramatic and shady?” Ryan couldn’t quite decide if that was a question or not. He made a vaguely affirming sound and followed Brendon’s bouncing. 

He stopped at the counter, not sure if he was allowed in the back.  
“Are you coming?” said Brendon strangely deep in the backroom.  
Carefully Ryan made his way deeper into the store following sounds of things being shifted around. 

“Found it!”  
Ryan was still hesitant, making small shuffling steps and tangling his arms in front of his chest, twining his fingers.  
Brendon was already gently setting up the needle on the record and soon after a countdown bouncing piano sounds started drifting about. Ryan liked this version better than any cover.  
“Me too,” Brendon said gently; not disturbing the music.  
“You too, what?” Ryan asked confused.  
“Like the original better than covers,” Brendon said patiently.  
“Oh yeah, me too. I mean shit, I already said that,” his words turned to a mumble the later in the sentence they came along and Ryan‘s ears, thankfully hidden beneath layers of hair and a hat, turned a darker hue.  
Brendon got that small smile again, but he wasn’t looking at Ryan whatsoever. 

Out of politeness he didn’t look at his face for too long, only long enough to determine if he was looking away with intent.

They quietly stood through the next couple of songs, finally reaching the middle track.  
“I really like this one so far,” Brendon broke the silence.  
“This one’s Martha.”

The longer the song played for the more Brendon seemed interested; bobbing his head to the beat and staring at the spinning record. By the end his face was in a huge grin, only subsiding after the next tract started playing.

Looking at the track list he chuckled, two chicks in a row. What a player.”  
Despite himself Ryan let out a chuckle of his own. Smaller and more hesitant, but undeniably present. 

“Do you play anything?” Brendon asked no longer invested in the tracks following.  
“Guitar, but only a bit. I’m not good or anything. And I’m learning the banjo, but I’m even worse at that,” Ryan said not yet sure I the liked the word exchange quite as much as quiet standing and listening to the piano, guitar and scratchy voices. 

Remembering his manners and for once general curiosity he asked “Do you?”  
“A little of this a little of that,” Brandon said, smile tinted a bit of expectancy.  
“That makes it sound like you make bombs,” Ryan said positively intrigued.  
Brendon’s smile only widened, “But otherwise it still applies. I mean I don’t think I’m all that good, but I try, so maybe I’m excusable.”  
“You sounded pretty excellent that other time with the accordion,” Ryan said.  
“I really didn’t peg you for a guy who likes accordions,” Brendon said expression invested in the answer.  
“That’s cause I’m really not,” the borderline hatred was apparent in Ryan’s perpetuity stoic voice.  
Rather than offended Brendon only appeared more entertained, “I’m not all that fond of them either. Just don’t tell my grandma, she’d be crushed.” The statement was followed by a brief laugh, arguably more melodic than the music still playing. 

In the moment of quiet that followed, Ryan realised just how hungry he was. He checked the time on the outdated clock on the wall, letting out a surprised gasp at the passing of time.

“Do you have somewhere to be? I’m sorry if you do. I don’t mean to get people to be forced into hanging out with me, just kind of happens. Anyways if you have to be anywhere then bye I guess I had fun,” Brendon’s little talk took a more worried tone than any of the previous rants had.  
Ryan didn’t like his discomfort and he hurried to soothe it, “No I don’t I just haven’t had breakfast yet,” he tried to sound as sincere as possible.  
He succeeded and Brendon’s shoulders went back down below his neck again.

“In that case I’ll just let you go get some food. Have a nice day,” this time at least his voice sounded chipper again. Ryan contemplated if he should just leave or maybe, “Or I could get something and come back?” his voice took on a seriously high pitch.

Brendon was positively bouncing in place at the offer, “That’d be pretty amazing. It gets so boring here and people mostly just come around to look at the cover art, which is totally fine, but they also don’t wanna chat with me,” Brendon’s face was graced by a fake, yet very convincing pout. Ryan was instantly terrified of; that’s the kind of expression that gets you to keep an abandoned litter of kittens and Ryan didn’t even like cats. 

With Brendon’s umbrella Ryan made his way to the nearest store and bought something or the other, stopping to get a skittles pack at the register. 

It turned out that Ryan was oh so very right in the skittles department, which resulted in Brendon gaving him an oddly pleasant bone crushing hug.

….

Ryan was sitting on his bed thinking about the day and mostly what to have for dinner when simultaneously the front door banged open and his phone rang. He’ll let someone else talk to the door-bangerer while he answered the phone.

“I just had the weirdest day,” Spencer’s voice continued after the ringtone.  
“As in?” Ryan wasn’t in the mood to guess what dress Spencer’s sisters decided he should try on that day. 

“So Haley’s dad though it’d be a good idea to take everyone fishing, including me, but I hate fishing,” Spencer said. “I could not possibly touch one of those, those I don’t know they’re slimy is what I’m saying. So, on the other side of the river I see Jon and some guys doing fishing for fun,” the repulsion in his voice was apparent, but he didn’t dwell on it “And I might have been struggling a tiny bit, or enough for Jon to notice, cause he came over and got the fish for me,” by the end Spencer’s voice sounded dreamy and far away.

Ryan had a hard time seeing why.  
“He gave you fish,” not that Ryan wasn’t happy for Spencer, but come on that is like calling a girl tall as a spruce tree and comely as an oak and expect to be thanked and praised for your poetic and sensitive side.  
“He helped me in a time of need,” Spencer defended, “And it just so happened I needed help with fish.”

Ryan had some weird ass friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm deciding on weather i should throw out the last part and put it in the next chapter or not. Also debating on adding some other bands.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryan hadn’t ever been much of an animal person. Sure he liked dogs and the occasional fish, but anything bigger and claw-ier than that and he was out.   
He didn’t want to see farm animals, however tiny. There wasn’t anything wrong with them per se; they just had a tendency to smell bad. But on the other hand so did Jon, so Ryan agreed.

Jon’s dad- John, who even names their kid a spinoff of their own name? - had a friend who wanted a new cow, but his kids were all in college, therefore he asked John, Jon and Ryan to tag along. 

The drive was a bit longer than Ryan liked and his lanky legs felt completely crumpled when he was dragging himself to the entrance. It was hosted at a very large plateau in the middle of nowhere- as most things tended to reside here. It was framed, by tall pine trees which danced every time a gust of wind travelled through. The grass inside the wooden fence was dead from hours of torturous stumping done by men and farm animals respectfully. Thankfully it was colder, courtesy of higher altitude. Ryan enjoyed a little break from sweating and bathed in the colder air with a content smile on his face, eyes closed until a shout of his name pulled him back to the smell of cows.

Without too much thought he pulled out the library’s copy of The romantic manifesto and just followed the sound of Jon’s cheerful voice.

They suddenly stopped and Ryan would have bumped straight into Jon’s back if not for the sharp turn Jon must have known he would have to pull in order to avoid Ryan’s inattentiveness. 

“So Ryan, what’d you think of this one?” his eyes hesitantly left the page and he was face to gob with a mini cow. Its tongue mowed faster than Ryan could and soon enough his face was glossy with cow spit.   
Everybody found this to be the funniest thing since ever and people were actually falling over because of laughter while Ryan harshly rubbed at his damp cheek.

Ryan really didn’t see the hilarity at all and he just sort of stood with his arms over his chest, back hunched. A wet nose bumped him and he didn’t even want to look at it. 

“Betsy has a new favorite, I’d say,” a man in green overalls said barely containing his smile.

“Hear that Ryan, you won’t die alone,” Jon said. Ryan despite his quite impressive vocabulary didn’t have any words left and just settled for a simple, yet effective glare he had learnt from Spencer.

He hurriedly stepped to the side, away from the joyous eyes opening up his book.  
He had been reading for a good 15 minutes when he felt another wet nose bump him, this time in the ankle. He yelped in a very manly way and jumped; afraid of a repeat. This time the eyes looking up at him were a safe meter and a half lower than his face. The goat determinedly stepped between his feet and started pulling on his pant leg and pulling towards its petite body. Ryan got the hint and sat down and the same moment Ryan was fully seated it leaped on his lap.

The goat seemed satisfied to just relax in Ryan’s lap and allowed him to read. He couldn’t quite decide if he liked the fur covered lump in his lap or not but she was sort of growing on him.

“I’m gonna call you Ethel,” Ryan told the goat with a tiny smile.

Just after he settled his spidery fingers onto her head a loud shriek came from around the corner and the goats seemed to look up with pleading eyes and fold in on itself in a un-goatly way and pleaded for Ryan to do something. 

A little girl in a muddy pale yellow dress ran around the corner screeching her bun off and searching for something.

The girl came to a swift halt right in front of Ryan, but payed no attention to him, focusing all of her tiny brain on the frightened goat.

“Rebeca!” her voice was like a pin needle; thin and frail, but awfully sharp. 

Before either could say anything further a very concerned, very out of breath voice called “Nelly, you can’t just run off like that!” 

Ryan took a second to recognize the voice, but by the time he did he was shifting awkwardly on the stomped damp grass, holding the goat as a shield. He always felt weird around acquaintances that were close to being casual friends.

Nelly looked remorseful, but only slightly, still eying the frightened goat. “Yes Uncle Brendon,” she sang without an ounce of remorse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's the thing, I had this chapter mostly drafted by like the beginning of August, but then all of this weird ass shit started happening in the fandom and I thought things would get sorted through in a couple of weekes, yet here we are. I really don't wanna express my opinion on the topic (not that it matters/anyone asked), because i don't want to get attacked by people (which might happen anyways), so I'm just gonna kinda keep away (as usual), until shit cools down. So anyways I'm just posting this half finished thing.
> 
> also I generally tend to be a pretty fast writer, so idk what this pile of junk is. 
> 
> Idk if I should just cut this pile of drivel.(I mean I might also just leave it on here or rewrite it)
> 
> Also, also I'm thinking of starting fresh; a Gabilliam fanfic in the mountains, cause I'm mountains starved, or like a Peterick, idk.


End file.
